weight.
as separate, unrelated circumstances climb atop one another.
a summation of effort lost.
a symbol with a lesser worth so carelessly handled.
a slew of beautiful, foreign scenes.
a longing so far from reach.
a parched, mistaken waiting.
a procrastinated journey to the well.
with the anchors dislodged, Cameron's sub races back up to the surface again.


fastest fingers first.
but really, within ten minutes?


maybe i need another game of sorts.


weight.
does not accord itself to a piece of paper.
nor to two or three of them.
at least not just yet.
it is only with the progression of a name that their featherweight status is relieved.


seems something inconspicuous turned my red to green.


angie, angie, when will those clouds all disappear
angie, angie, where will it lead us from here.

perfection at 4:05 PM